The Dealer's Snare
by xXSlasherXx
Summary: Ricardo Irving has no bitterness or resentment towards mankind, he just does what he does for a decent profit. Chris Redfield is the complete opposite; willing to risk his own life for the benefit of others - something that Irving just can't help but find so intriguing about him. Slash: Chris/Irving. M for sexual content.


**AN: **Okay...I've never done a yaoi ONESHOT with a sexual encounter, so here's my attempt. LOL. Characters of RE5 aren't mind. :)

**The Dealer's Snare**

"Why the hell haven't you killed me yet, you spineless snake?" Chris snarled up at the haughty grinned weasel towering over him. Ricardo Irving chuckled down at the large man bound to the lab table by his arms and legs with heavy iron shackles that were chained into the floor under the steel table by thick, iron chain links. The position kept Chris's arms extended apart from his chest, his wrists slightly over the edges of the table, and his legs aligned perfectly straight and together.

"The B.S.A.A, eh?" Irving taunted. "Wow, you's guys are just too professional for your own good."

The smug bastard threw his head back and let out a tantalizing howl of laughter.

Chris ground his teeth. "You damn, little shit."

"Oooh, such a foul-mouthed punk." Irving wiggled his finger in front of Chris's face. "Ya know, if you keep on pushing me, I'll have to take ya to get neutered, little pup."

The more Irving spoke, the more Chris's blood boiled. It was after the attack on alpha team and the demise of the squirming B.O.W that Sheva and Chris were ambushed in the basement of the warehouse by Ricardo Irving and a cloaked woman wearing a mask with a strangely similar form of a crow's beak. The data that they retrieved regarding the weapon's deal was of the up most importance and had to be sent to HQ. While Chris subdued the masked woman and the gloating Irving, he urged Sheva to hurry along without him to the elevator so that she could get the data to where it needed to go. DeChant and the others had all lost their lives because of the slippery little bastard.

Moments after finally convincing a reluctant Sheva to head out without him, Chris was then locked in battle with Irving and his apparent "partner". The woman was good, Chris was able to give her that. Her reflexes, moves, speed, strength, everything about her fighting style just screamed years of fighting experience. However, just as Chris managed to get his hand around her throat after she had dodged his rain of bullets, it was Irving who intervened. The weasel waited until Chris had his back turned to fire a shot right into his left shoulder. Toppling onto the floor of the basement, the white-hot searing pain racing down his arm, Chris cried out in agony. He was utterly helpless as the cloaked woman regained her composure and delivered a swift blow to the back of his neck.

Chris didn't know how long he was unconscious, but after some time – hours presumably – he awoke to that damned sneer.

Chris now glowered up at Irving with the promise of a merciless reprisal in his eyes. Looking around, Chris could see that he was in some kind of infirmary. But it had been a while since it had been in use; he could see the worn and dirty sheets of the row of hospital beds. All of the monitors and equipment were black screened and covered in thick layers of dust. Basically, the only light provided was the red from the exit sign over the door of the emergency exit, which X was flickering. Chris could see Irving's face, tinted with red, illuminating his eyes with a sinister glow and leaving the other half of his face encased in shadow.

Suddenly, it struck Chris.

"Where's Sheva?!" Chris demanded.

Irving raised an eyebrow. "Ah, little Ms. Beauty Queen? She managed to get slip away from our grasp when you helped her split from the area. Bravo, oh noble knight! _Hahahaha!"_

"Son of a...!" Chris yelped out in pain and remembered that he had taken a bullet to the shoulder.

Irving smirked. "Heh...so _you're _Chris, eh?"

Chris gritted his teeth. "How...do you know about me?"

"I gotta admit, when Wesker told me you were as single-minded as a caveman, he wasn't joking," he quipped.

Part of Chris's soul went white upon hearing that name.

"_...WESKER?! HE'S ALIVE?! AAAGH!"_

"Chill there, Redfield," Irving suggested, a miniscule amount of concern for Chris's wound in his voice. "Removing that bullet from your shoulder took some kind of focus, can't risk having to recover you from anemia."

As much as Chris wanted to smash the little bastard's face in, he was right. The wound in his shoulder had caused a good amount of blood loss.

"I wouldn't have to worry about the damn bullet if you hadn't shot me in the first place, you goddam rat," Chris vehemently swore.

Irving shrugged. "Sorry, Redfield, couldn't have ya killing one of our mercenaries. Besides, Wesker's orders were for me to keep you alive and under watch until he came back to decide your fate."

Chris watched as Irving walked over to a hospital bed, his white jacket trailing behind him, and dived into it, sending a wispy cloud of dusk puffing into the air. He laid on his back and propped his feet up on the railing at the end of the bed.

Using his eyes to examine the lab table, Chris was able to inference that this was just recently added, seeing as how the steel was smooth and flat and had little to no dust on it. A lab table in the middle of the infirmary. What the hell was he strapped to this for? Why not a damn cell? Not that he was recommending it...

"Where..." Chris groaned weakly. "...is Wesker?"

Irving sat up, propping his arm on his knee. "Not permitted to tell ya that, Chris. Sorry. Captain's orders."

"Dammit...tell me where he is..." he demanded.

Irving scoffed. "Buddy, ya really think you're in any position to be making demands?"

Chris could only glare at the ceiling, trying to come up with what he could do or say to find an ace in the hole that could get him out of this situation.

"Where are we?" Chris asked, only then noticing he had no clue where they were.

"The place that once served as Umbrella's labs." Irving yawned. "Dusty as hell."

Irving ran his finger over the nightstand next to the bed and gave a disapproving look to the dust collected on his glove.

Chris, being a member of the B.S.A.A, knew that he had to uncover and ask questions regarding Wesker, the breakout of Las Plagas in the city, and, of course, the Uroboros project. But, again, as Irving said, he was in no place to be giving orders. He could already feel that all of his weapons had been confiscated by whoever was in allegiance with Wesker. Damn...He had hoped to the heavens that the bastard was dead.

His mind immediately went back to that fateful night at the Spencer estate. Jill had selflessly intervened, had saving Chris from a painful demise. If Wesker was still breathing...then...Jill sacrificed herself...for nothing.

Grief washed through Chris's mind as he remembered Jill tackling Wesker and plummeting out of the window to her...

Chris screamed.

Not out of agony, or any applied pressure to the bullet wound, but of anguish for his partner.

Irving jumped out of the bed in alarm. "The hell...?"

Chris's eyes screwed shut.

In the line of duty, agents were trained to kept their emotions in check and any personal matters separate from the mission. The wall of pain that Chris felt for the woman who was practically another sister to him came falling down upon him like an avalanche.

"Jill..." he whimpered, as a single tear slowly rolled down the corner of his eye and over his temple.

Irving slowly approached Chris. "What's with the waterworks, freedom fighter?"

Chris whipped his head in the other direction, not wanting this _thing _to see this vulnerable side that not even he himself knew existed. "Just get the hell away from me, you evil dirtbag."

"Touchy, arentcha?" Irving inclined his head.

"Just leave me alone. I'm bound to this damn table and can't escape, so go torment some other captive, you damned gremlin."

Irving noted that the larger man's voice was breaking slightly. The defiant anger that was simmering in his voice had died down to a tortured whimper.

"What's with you?" Irving demanded, folding his arms. "Y'know, worse things could have been done to you other than being shot and locked onto a table."

"Piss off, you shit stain. Just hearing your voice and knowing your background, I know you're just another money-hungry, piece of shit terrorist. You're just another one of them..."

"I'm insulted," Irving said sweetly. "I'm not like them at all, Redfield. I'm a businessman with _standards."_

Chris kept his eyes shut. "Yeah...and your business resulted in the deaths of Alpha Team all because of that B.O.W _you _left behind to annihilate us."

Irving blinked. "B.O.W? What B.O.W?"

"Cut the shit!" Chris roared, the anger returning to his voice. "The B.O.W you left behind! The thing that wiped out Alpha Team!"

Irving's face was utterly clueless. "I don't know anything about a damn B.O.W being unleashed onto your precious Alpha Team, Redfield. My job is to monitor the transactions of the weapons. I have no control whatsoever on who they unleash it upon."

Chris's eyes shot up to his. "You mean you didn't know about the massacre?"

"Nada." Irving scratched the back of his head. "I came back to get some data I forgot and found your team dead. If a B.O.W was sicked on them, I had nothing to do with it. Wasn't my doing."

"Well, why the hell are you with Wesker?" Chris demanded.

Irving gaped at Chris as though he had asked him an absolutely stupid question. "Why the hell do ya think? He's a fucking monster. He knew I had connections with the underground black market and shit. Plus, I handled funds professionally. So, of course he wanted me on his team. I was an asset he wanted. A fucking king piece on the chess board. But...seeing the look in his eyes when he tracked me down and approached me, well...something tells me I would have ended up as chum for the crocodiles if I said no to him."

"So...you're here out of fear?" Chris presumed.

"Bingo." Irving sneered. "So...Jill...what was she, an old girlfriend, or somethin'?"

"She was my partner." Chris closed his eyes again. "Long story short, she died on a mission to track down Wesker."

Irving sneered and looked away. "A lost friend, eh? Makes sense."

What the hell was Chris doing talking to this scumbag?

"Hmph...guess I wouldn't know what being close to a person is like," Irving stated. "The streets were what raised me through life...but, hell, I ain't the kind that likes to whine about bad pasts."

Chris's upper lip curled. "You think I even care? You supply the goods to the terrorists. I lost a partner years ago, and I probably might lose another. All because of your so-called _standards. _So don't complain to me about suffering when all you do is cause it to others."

Within Irving's mind, something unraveled. He didn't know what, but Redfield had made a good point. But it was nothing personal; he wasn't holding anything against the entire human race or anything. The only thing he cared about was the green. Chris Redfield, he could already tell, was a walking sack of morals - everything he was _not. _Irving couldn't help but laugh at that thought.

Chris, a hostage and irritated, was having it up to here with this bastard getting giggles from his world of shit. "What the hell is so funny now?"

Irving's teeth revealed in a grin."You...and I..."

"What are you talking about?"

Irving walked over to the table. "We're like a fucking modern day Yin and Yang. Total opposites in every way."

Chris didn't like the idea of being connected to this guy, even if it was just his opinion. "There's good and there's evil. We're not antidotes to each other, Irving. It just depends on what side you're on."

Irving poked Chris's forehead with his finger. "Well, I'm sure you of all people would know that freedom ain't free. You've had to pay with vital things, I'm sure. Eh?"

Chris merely turned away from the little weasel. "Shut up..."

Irving grinned at the back of his head. "What would you say if I told ya I could...make your pain go away? Just for a little bit?"

"If you're trying to pump me full of some kind of experimental drugs, go to hell."

Irving would have burst out laughing. True, he could have injected Chris with whatever he wanted, seeing as how he was bound, but it wasn't his intention.

"No drugs, Redfield," Irving whispered. "But...it's somewhat similar to ecstasy."

Before Chris could turn around and demand what the hell he was getting at, he felt a hand ghost over his groin and begin to gently massage it.

"WHAT ARE YOU-?!"

"Shhhhh..." Irving put his lips to his ear. "Relax, Chris. I haven't done this with another guy before and only once with a hooker, but it can't be too difficult. I know how everything works."

Chris shuddered as he felt the warm wetness of Irving's tongue licking the shell of his ear. Irving gently massaged Chris's sensitive area, eager to get a positive reaction from his body. Chris tried to desperately thrash, but the pain of his wound would put back him into his submissive binding. Irving's tongue left Chris's ear, but he kept his lips brushed lightly over his cheek.

"Cut...it...out!" Chris weakly growled.

Irving gave his cheek a peck. "Why? Dontcha like it?"

"N-No...! Ugh...!"

Irving's eyes went down to his left hand that was gently grasping Chris's manhood.

"Really? Then care to explain why your rod's getting firmer? And firmer..."

"Y-You...bastard...A-Ah...! _Stop...it..."_

Irving used his other hand to slide up Chris's shirt. Using his teeth, Irving bit into the index finger glove and pulled it off. After flinging if off into the dark room, he slid his hand over Chris's stomach.

"Heh...up close, you've got a nice bod, Redfield," Irving purred.

Chris could feel himself getting hard under his jeans. "I-Im warning you...stop..."

"There we go with that again." Irving leaned down and gently caressed Chris's bellybutton with the tip of his tongue; Chris shuddered as the warm tremors went down his spine. "You're in no position to be acting like a badass, Chris."

Irving went back up to Chris's head and took his earlobe into his teeth, gently rolling the soft flesh. Loving the shudders he was getting from Chris, he removed his other glove and went to work on undoing Chris's belt.

"Wait...! What are you going to...?!"

Irving peeled his white coat off his shoulders and let if fall to the floor. "What I said I was going to do, Redfield. Relieve some pressure for the both of us. No need to get all pale in the face."

The buckle of Chris's belt came undone; Irving wasted no time. He immediately began to fumble with the button and zipper.

"Stop...!" Chris protested. "W...Why the hell are you doing this?!"

Irving leaned over until his upper body was crouched on the lab table over Chris's waist. "Why not? Dontcha wanna be able to feel great for the first time after all this time, Chris?"

Irving crawled up Chris's body like a cat on a hunt and licked the bottom of his chin. He liked the way the his chin hair felt all prickly under his tongue. "Heh...you taste nice."

"I'm serious!" Chris roared. "Stop this-!"

In a flash, Irving peeled down Chris's zipper and reached into his pants like a greedy child on Halloween night, pushing aside the material of Chris's black boxer briefs.

"_Ahhh!"_

The head of Chris's manhood lit up with pleasure when he felt Irving's bare hand touch it. Irving inspected Chris's slowly growing member like a pawn broker examining a diamond.

"Yikes. You're not even fully erect yet it's already big and throbbing like crazy. You really _are _enjoying this, huh?"

The look in Irving's eyes was not his signature smile of taunting and ridicule, but a seductive and needy glimmer that had a mysterious atmosphere in the red light of the sign.

"I-Irving..." Chris really wanted him to stop, yet his body was betraying him.

"Wonder how ya taste..."

Irving leaned down and gave the slit of Chris's member and gentle lick, taking a small drop of precum into his mouth. Chris's face flushed with red when he felt the wet organ and the warm breath of Irving's mouth floating over his organ.

Irving moaned as he tasted the substance. "Sweet..."

Irving then took Chris into his mouth. Chris, involuntarily, let out a sultry moan. He wanted to make him stop...he had to...This was Ricardo Irving...the Death Dealer, the Weasel of the Bio-weapon Underworld, the slippery rattlesnake that-

"_Oh, GOD!" _Chris's exposed stomach jerked, but he tried to control how much his body moved as possible. The wound...

Chris looked down to see the back of Irving's head slowly bobbing up and down, going to work on his rod.

"_Please..." _Chris moaned. _"Sto-...Ahhh...!"_

Focusing his mouth so that Chris's penis was securely sealed in, Irving hastily undid his belt, tore open his zipper, pushed back the material of his blue boxers, and took his own erection into his right hand. He moaned around Chris's erection as he stroked himself, Chris's moans serving as good enough material to get him off. Irving then examined the situation: Chris Redfield, the well-known agent with a history of butting heads with the infamous Albert Wesker, was writhing in pleasure, completely at his mercy.

He couldn't help but smile around Chris's cock upon realizing that.

This was bad...Chris didn't want to enjoy this. Irving's mouth was...warm and wet. He had only done this once before – so he told Chris – but he moved his mouth and worked his tongue, swirling it over the head of Chris's member, so professionally. Irving opened his eyes, peering up at Chris's face. His eyes screwed tight and his head shaking back and forth, trying to fight the good sensation that he was feeling.

Chris felt as though he was practicing the worst form of betrayal for being aroused from this dirtbag's actions.

Irving took his mouth off of Chris's rod and began to sensually lick it up and down, from the top, down the shaft, to the bottom of his testicles.

"You're delicious, Redfield," Irving huskily commented, giving the head a gentle kiss. Slowly, he crawled over Chris again, his erection brushing over his own, causing him to give a soft moan.

Chris opened one of his eyes, panting and trying so hard to ignore the throbbing erection that was being touched by Irving's.

"Irving...don't..."

And Irving's mouth went onto Chris's. Irving gently molded his mouth into Chris's. The smaller male moaned into his mouth and then forced his tongue into the bigger one's mouth. His tongue swam inside of the moist caverns of the mouth of the bound man. Irving's mouth tasted of the salty-sweet substance he had been lapping up.

Chris could only hold still as Irving had his way with him, trying to control his own moans.

Irving pulled back, a thin stream of saliva connecting their mouths.

"Chris..." Irving sighed, his voice having become uncharacteristically needy.

He slip off the table.

"What...?" Chris turned his head, but could see nothing, for Irving had moved out of the red spotlight provided by the sign. Though Chris couldn't see Irving, the sound of clothes rustling and buckles and zippers coming undone could be made out...

No...he wasn't...

Please...God no...

Chris felt Irving crawl over his body once more...only this time...

"Oh damn..." Chris hissed.

Irving was straddling Chris's waist...totally naked except for his orange-brown sweater, dangling past his shoulder and down to his elbows, the chain necklace glimmering from the scarlet light, and two black socks. Chris looked down to see that Irving's long – though not as long as Chris's - member was also leaking precum. His slim waist and slightly fuzzy chest were major contributes to Irving's seductive image. Irving had went from a scumbag terrorist to a portrait of an erotic male in the snap of a finger.

"I-Irving..."

Irving merely moaned and put his finger to the tip of his rod to scoop up the small bead of semen seeping out. He leaned down and tenderly slid the finger into Chris's mouth.

Chris let Irving swirl his finger all through his mouth, mixing his precum with his saliva. This time, Chris let out a moan at tasting Irving's substance. When Irving's finger was completely clean, Irving straddled Chris's hips again.

Chris's heart leapt into his throat when he felt Irving positioning his rod at his entrance.

"Gimme some time to adjust..." He gave a coy smile. "Never had anything up there before."

Keeping a tight grip on Chris's member, Irving slid himself down onto the head of the throbbing knob. A whimper escaped from Irving's mouth as he slowly sat down, swallowing up Chris's cock.

"_I-Irving...!" _

Inside of Irving...he was so tight...so snug...so warm...

Irving's nipples hardened into firm buds as he took in Chris completely. Irving moaned down at Chris with the needy shine still in his eyes and began to slowly ride Chris. He rocked his hips more as he adjusted to the feeling of him inside his body.

Chris groaned in pleasure as his mind got lost in the pleasure of Irving's walls clenching around him.

"_You're...so big..."_ Irving moaned, reaching down to stroke his own member. Chris finally hit the sweet spot when Irving began to ride him faster. _"OH! Right there...! Fuck...that's so good...!"_

Chris's own hips began to thrust up into Irving; his mind had finally given in to the feeling Irving was making him feel. Irving gently pinched Chris's right nipple, earning him another moan.

Irving parted his lips in a grin. _"You close, little Chris? Ughnn...I'm close..."_

Chris didn't relent; he thrust harder, wanting to reach the state of pure bliss. _"IRVING!"_

Irving's back arched and he threw his head back as the liquid white shot from his member and onto Chris's shirt and a bit on his chin. Chris let his mind do its own thing as he let out a mix of a growl and a moan and shot deep inside of Irving. Irving, eyes closed, basked in the feeling of Chris releasing into him as he shot several more times before collapsing onto Chris, feeling his solid chest rise and fall gently.

When the aftershock of Chris's orgasm faded, he looked down at the top of Irving's head.

"Why...?" Chris panted.

Irving sighed placidly. "When you've been through hell...ain't it nice to have at least a _little _piece of heaven?"

* * *

_Hours Later_

After patching Chris up thoroughly, Irving managed to sneak him out of the Umbrella labs the same way he was able to smuggle weapons into other countries. He swiped a boat and rocketed out of the caves to the coordinates in which Delta Team and his partner, Sheva, would be waiting.

Speeding across the water, the two men were left in awkward silence.

"Take it easy with your arm," Irving said. "Your shoulder will still be a little tender for a few weeks."

Chris merely nodded.

"So...you're just letting me go?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm just acting like I'm giving Tricell the ol' cut 'n run to seem like a badass." Irving rolled his eyes. "I'll drop you off at the docks at the oilfield. You'll find your team at the deal coordinates."

Irving tossed Chris his GPS. "But you have to clear out of there in two hours. The place is gonna go boom. Understood?

Chris's eyes widened in shock, but he nodded; he knew that would be more than enough time to find them and flee the island.

"What about you?" Chris questioned. "Where are you going to head off to?"

Irving smirked. "Someplace where Wesker nor Tricell can trace me. I'm taking the pay they've given me for my services and retiring from this business. A lot of work for not nearly enough pay."

"Hm..." Chris looked away. "Should I even trust what you're saying? Knowing you..."

Irving smiled. "I spared your life and am helping you escape Redfield. Isn't that the diamond in this stone for ya?"

Chris looked away into the water whipping past the boat.

"We're here."

Irving pulled the boat up to the docks.

"Stay frosty, Redfield," Irving purred. He was half-tempted to tell Chris that Jill was still alive...but figured that that would be a nice surprise as Chris and his comrades continued on in their fight for freedom.

Chris slowly heaved himself onto the dock, but stopped briefly.

"Thanks..." he said without looking back at Irving.

Before he could climb out of the boat, Irving snaked an arm around his waist and kissed the back of his neck.

"I'll be back for you," Irving whispered, letting go of Chris and settling back into the boat. "Remember...two hours..."

Chris spoke not a word; he simply climbed onto the dock, careful not to apply any stress onto his injured shoulder. Only when the sound of Irving's boat speeding flowed through his ears did Chris head off down the dock, eager to find Sheva and rest of Delta Team.

Chris had never felt more clueless...

He had just had a sexual encounter with the very man he considered wicked. Though why was he courageous enough to help him out of Umbrella's leftover lab and get him back onto the island? So many questions shot through his head, but he would have to question his sense of mind later, after this so-called doomsday project was put to rest.

Wesker was alive.

And Chris was going to stop him.

Even if it meant bargaining his own life.

_Fin._


End file.
